To be a Villain
by LunagaleMaster
Summary: After the events of Kindred Spirits, Vlad, in the ruined remains of his lab, has to decide what he is supposed to do next after losing his perfect son. An old college photo that impeccably keeps surviving explosions tries to help his thought process. Unfortunately, so does the memory of glaring neon green eyes. One-shot.


I should be working on Cell of a Splintered Past (6,000 plus words out of 10,000 ish so far guys), but then I got into the Undertale fandom, went on Youtube, found this AMV, and my inner DP phangirl thought "hey, this song kind of applies to Vlad…"

And then this was created this. Yeah… So it's now a thing instead of finishing chapter four part two…

Whoops?

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Timeline: Post-Kindred Spirits

POV: 3rd person limited, Vlad Masters (Plasmius)

Warnings: Cursing in the song, location might not be canon

Rating: T for cursing

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Enjoy!

Posted: November 29, 2015

Edit 12/1/2015: Apparently putting songs in a fan fiction is bad, as in account closure bad. So yeah, I took them out (which I find ironic since that was literally was what inspired this fic. Whatever. Not worth account banning).

Disclaimer: I do not own Danny Phantom. All rights go to Nickelodeon and Butch Hartman. Please support its official release.

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** To be a Villain  
by: LunagaleMaster **  
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Vlad Plasmius stood in the remains of his lab in frozen shock, his boots covered in a light layer of ash. His mind was trying to comprehend his state of affairs, but for the life of him, he couldn't seem to grasp the severity of the situation.

Everything just felt… blank.

His lab, his pristine multi-million dollar, state of the art, hundreds of years ahead of its time cloning lab, was gone. Not only gone, but completely decimated. Ashes and blackened walls covered every corner of the once pinnacle of technology. Broken junk of once proud pieces of metal decorated the ground like obscure modern art. If he closed his eyes, Vlad could even picture where everything was before Daniel... well, Daniel did whatever that _monstrosity_ of an attack was.

Vlad grimaced when a small, involuntary shiver ran down his spine at the memory of the devastating scream piercing and destroying everything it touched.

Everything had been going so well too. While he would admit not all of his plans ended spectacularly, Vlad thought that this time, _this_ time, with the smallest bit of aid from the blemish on his scientific genius, he could have everything he could have every wanted.

Yes, he would admit that one small part of his knew that the holograms of his perfect Madeline could never replace her real elegance and beauty nor would making clones of Daniel change the fact that the real deal hated his very existence (though the importance of this fact was diminished considering the boy wasn't supposed to live long enough to be any more of a nuisance). However, these small details were unimportant in the long run. After all, he would have the perfect wife, whether she was technically real or completely created from a programed personality did not matter, not really, and the perfect son, one who would look up to him, one he could teach, and one who could be everything he could ever want in the future.

Sure, both the first Daniel and female mistake would be destroyed in the process, but since he was adding more life to the world, Vlad saw it as a sort of balancing act. Take a life, add a life. It all worked out in the end. In fact, in this way, he was adding a _better_ life, a perfect one. The new Daniel would have been perfect in every way possible, eliminating any of those pesky moral issues and insistence in fighting against him. The world would have been _better_ in the end.

Some would argue that he was playing God, making life and destroying it on a whim. Vlad would argue back that what he was doing was simply a science, whole messes of trial and error that came with the process of evolution. Besides, it wasn't like those failed clones had any minds to _lose_ when they died. Technically in the scheme of things, letting those experiments die was no worse than putting down rabid dogs. The only difference was that the clones' deaths had more purpose and, unfortunately, more mess when they finally lost all traces of life.

So, no, Vlad did _not_ think he was doing anything too terrible when he started the cloning process. He was simply making his own life better with his own scientific genius. If a few lives were hurt in the process, it didn't matter too terribly much. Their lives were all sacrificed for the greater good of the world.

Vlad wasn't blind enough to think he was the good guy in the situation. He definitely couldn't (and didn't want to) consider himself as one. However, he couldn't say he was doing great evil either.

But here he was, in the charred remains of his lab, weak, defeated, and completely and utterly alone.

As he floated there, he let his gaze trail along the ruins. There. Hadn't that been the mainframe? And there. That was where the main cloning machine.

He skipped over the melted ectoplasmic remains of his once perfect son.

Everything was in ruins, all because of that idiotic, naïve _boy_ and his horrible wail. Something started boiling within the halfa. He clenched his fists, eyes flashing in undisguised rage.

Vlad didn't know he could ever hate someone more than he could ever hate Jack. However, in that moment he saw his new son, that moment he saw Daniel burst out of the tank, that moment where he lost everything…

Vlad's eyes flashed bright bloody red. If he had the energy, he would fly right over to Daniel's home and throttle his tiny little neck. Try to shake some sense into his tiny teenage brain and ask _what have you done?!_ How could he? Does he hate him so much to destroy every bit of happiness that he could ever have?

He hated the boy for what he did to him, did to his future. Vlad could have had it all. Love, a family, and the perfect happily ever after in one little package.

But _no,_ Mr. Hero Complex and the Mistake had to ruin all of his plans.

Vlad started moving, trampling across the ash hills and blackened metal and toward the gaping hole on the side of the building. The boy was probably weak anyway. Vlad, while admittedly not as strong as some physically while in his human form (because it would probably revert back again after the angry flight to the Fentons), could easily take on the lanky boy, weak from battle and electrocution.

Oh yes, Vlad could easily see the boy's face when he suddenly appeared, the fear in boy's eyes when he wrung his little neck, face going blue to the point of nearly passing out from lack of oxygen. But he wouldn't let the child slip into blackness. Oh no, he would keep him _highly_ aware of what was to come, as he bound and gagged him, leaving him entirely at his mercy. Daniel would struggle to get away as Vlad dragged him back to his home in Wisconsin, blue eyes narrowed in determination, but failing to hide his blatant fear and then… and then…

And then what?

He stopped at the edge of the broken opening and considered the thought for a moment.

Even if he were to utterly destroy the boy in every way possible, what good would it do? He… had nothing left, not anything significant at least. Completely destroying Daniel wouldn't make his life better. In the end, he would still be alone. He doubted killing Daniel would win him any points with Maddie, and as much as he would love traumatizing Jack, killing his son would more likely get him hunted by every ghost hunter imaginable, government, private, or otherwise.

Yes, he could be discreet. Maybe kill Daniel, then eventually kill Jack, and finally get his beloved Maddie in some twisted happily ever after. However, did he really want to _kill_ the boy? After all, he was the only other of their kind (the Female didn't count). As much as he despised him, Vlad didn't want to actually kill the brat. But corrupting the boy was not an option. Not anymore.

Not after Mr. Goody-Two-Shoes killed his perfect son.

But again, what now?

Vlad turned away from the growing night (no need to tempt himself into doing something rash), and back toward the lab. He bit his lip, as he studied the destruction once more, his heart growing heavy at the thought of everything he lost.

The halfa sighed, shoulder slumping, as the growing emptiness inside of him tempted to overwhelm him with every glance at the broken room. There in the corner, a broken swirling chair. The Mistake brought that in, didn't she? Her squeals when she twirled around the room were annoying at the time; he even admonished her for them. But now…

Anything to fill the silence and lifelessness of the room would be nice.

Vlad sighed again, clenching his eyes painfully tight to destroy those rebellious thoughts of any type of happiness with that Mistake. Wanting something even remotely resembling a future with her was foolish, disgusting, and most importantly impossible. Best not to think about it.

With one last sigh, Vlad opened his eyes and noted the rest of the destruction. Some ash there. More ash here. A broken piece of goodness-knew-what-that-once-was there. A giant metal table pushed against the wall, legs outward with a piece of trash stuck between it and the…

Wait a minute. That looked like…

Vlad froze, eyes going wide, mouth slightly agape. It must have been a ridiculous look on him, but in circumstances like this, and with so many irrationalities in his life, he had an excuse to be less than presentable.

It couldn't have survived. Not again. There was no way in any sort of logic, ghost, human, halfa, or otherwise that it could have survived that devastating attack when everything else had been destroyed. Not _again._

But there it was. On the ground, crunched into the wall behind the metal table, against all odds, was a picture frame.

Vlad knew what the picture in the frame was. The halfa would have laughed at the irony if he wasn't in such an embarrassing amount of shock.

Dazed, he walked toward the metal table, ash puffing beneath his boots with every step he took. Some part of him idly noted that his footsteps would probably be the only sign of life left in the empty space. At that thought, he promptly stopped walking mid-step and started slowly flying the rest of the way, hovering just high enough not to disturb the ruins.

His feet once more planted on the ground, the ash fleeing from his boots. If he had the strength, he would have used his ecto-energy to levitate the frame. But alas, he did not, and Vlad bent down to carefully free the object. Pulling the metal table back with his right hand by one of its legs, he quickly wiped the frame from its entrapment. He let the table fall back to its place, not really caring that it was still skewed on its side. It wasn't like anything else in the room was presentable.

Vlad sighed heavily again, shaking his head at the mess.

It was mostly silent in the room, only a light breeze causing any sort of noise. However, despite the ironically calm night, a tightness twisted in his heart, causing his fingers to twitch and the frame dangling in his left hand to feel unnaturally heavy. He tightened his grip to stop the picture from falling and becoming a part of this disaster.

Vlad couldn't tell anyone _why_ he picked up the frame. He didn't need to look at it. Vlad had glared at the picture enough for the image to burn in his mind forever. But it wasn't like he had anything better to do….

Before he could rethink his decision, he brought the frame up in front of his, both hands holding the fake wooden sides.

It was a marvel that the picture had survived this long. Truly, with all of Vlad's different homes and many purges, the day that he found the picture in an old college scrapbook had been the day this little thing had started its immortal life

Out of the many photos taken in those days, this had been the one he kept. It had all three of them, all together smiling like their perfect little, ignorant world was about to be destroyed by one faulty experiment.

Vlad didn't know what urge had him keep the picture. Of course, it had its use when he needed to hunt down Jack for the reunion, but he had the thing sitting on his lab table for many years before he ever thought about the vultures. Every once in a while, he had the urge to simply throw away the old memory (especially, after the spectacular failure at the reunion), but right before he finally rummaged the will to finally do it, he would simply put the frame back down, unharmed on the white lab table.

It was an infuriating process that annoyed him to no end. He couldn't even throw away the ripped half of Jack's face, proceeding to tape it back together after the Fentons left. Vlad truly meant to throw the torn piece away, maybe watch it slowly burn into ashes, but at the last moment, some part of him rebelled and fixed it back to a pseudo-presentable state.

When his portal exploded, Vlad had not even thought of the photo, more devastated by the loss of his home, lab, and other valuables (the Packer's memorabilia, for example. That had great, irreplaceable value). He remembered trudging through the remains of his once beautiful mansion, scowling angrily at his own incompetence and being infuriated that Jack got the better of him. In fact, in his anger, he had almost missed it. Only by accidently kicking the picture did he actually find it. However, at the time, thinking it was something worth saving, Vlad had bent down low to the grown, excitedly ruffling through the remains to uncover the object.

He had stared at the completely black scorched frame, broken glass, and slightly scorched sides of the picture until for a good two hours. Even then, only the obnoxious rattling of fire trucks, ambulances, and police cars _finally_ coming to see the destruction brought him back to his senses enough to stuff the old frame into his suit.

Even today, Vlad had no idea how the little frame had survived, having been at the dead center of the explosion. Whatever, the case, it did survive, and as further remembrance to his anger (not in any sentimentality, of course), he kept the picture with him to every lab he created.

And now, against all odds, it had survived again.

It was infuriating.

Vlad, now out of his shock, truly studied the picture in front of him. Starting from the, once again, scorched and shattered frame, barely held together by remaining chunks of splintered wood, he shook his head in disbelief before trailing his eyes toward the center of the frame. Pieces of glass had been knocked out, but most of it had caved in, puncturing the photo with small holes. He had to be careful not cut himself at the sharp edges.

The photo itself had seen better days. Torn, punctured, burnt at the edges, and fading from the years, the once happy memory stared back at him with signs of neglect. It was a shame too. Maddie truly did look beautiful in her youth. Of course, she was beautiful now, but there was a wild sort of beauty back then. A small smile crept to his lips.

Unfortunately, a scowl replaced it when he eyed Jack's idiotic form. He wore a hazmat suit everywhere even then? Disgusting. (He idly added 'convincing Maddie to follow the hazmat suit trend' as another reason to hate Jack).

But oh Maddie, his dear and beautiful Maddie… Oh, how much he lost because of Jack…

He trailed his sad eyes to the left side of picture and studied his old face.

Oh, how much had changed since then. He was so _young_! Happy even. The mullet wasn't the most attractive thing, but he could see himself as handsome in a nerdy sort of way. How could Maddie ever fall for that oaf when he was right there? He, who see her great intelligence, fiery beauty, and absolute elegance?

He was nearly about the throw the frame in frustration when something odd caught his eyes. He blinked, frowning slightly, as he studied his old self once more.

When…when was the last time he smiled like that?

It was a simple smile, small, yet bright, like a star in the night sky. There was nothing malicious, no double meaning, no other intention. Could he even see… happiness? He, Vlad Masters, being happy about something that didn't include Jack's death or Maddie's affections? It was laughable thinking about it now.

But there it was, plain as day on the scorched and punctured remains of a long struggling and forgotten photo, a genuine smile.

His finger hovered over his old face, not exactly touching the frame, but close enough to disturb the ash that had settled on the glass. In a fit of what he would later claim to be sudden OCD, he blew the grime away, dusting his gloved hand carefully over the shattered frame, as to not get injured by the glass.

Once the cleaning was done, Vlad held out the picture in front of him, clenching the frame tightly in his hands, and idly wondering what the point in his cleaning was.

Most of the time, when Vlad looked at the photo, he only felt anger at everything he lost. Here, he was human. Not normal, Vlad had never claimed to have, want, nor need any form of normalcy. However, he was carefree, dashing, intelligent, and in some ways horribly innocent to the ways of the world.

Was there any way he could get this feeling again?

Vlad pressed his lips, staring strangely at the old photo. Over time, he noted that he unconsciously to hold the frame closer to himself, the fake wood nearly bumping against his suit, as he tucked his elbows close to his sides.

In his many years as a halfa, there had mainly been two goals in his mind, to utterly destroy Jack and to secure a place next to his lovely Maddie. Yet Daniel added a new twist in his plans, one that mostly inevitably deterred his efforts to win his original goals. Over the many months fighting against the boy, the process had become almost tiresome, and while Vlad knew he held a stubborn mindset, let it never be said that he wasn't adaptable. Changing his plans, so instead of converting Daniel to be his perfect son (since that route was obviously not working), he would create a new Daniel, for instance. That showed his adaptability quite nicely.

So, if in some corner of his mind, there was a strange thought that maybe in some way or circumstance he could quite possibly _not_ kill Jack and _not_ try to marry Maddie, it wouldn't be strange because he would be simply adapting to the current circumstances… right?

Vlad looked at the happy picture with glazed eyes, mind working in overdrive at his thought process.

Okay, maybe it would be a bit of a stretch to go to how things were before. In fact, some part of Vlad knew he could never truly forgive Jack for the accident, and his resentment would show through. The insincerity would never let him go back.

However, maybe he could… let go? Give in? Say "Okay, Daniel, you win," and walk away from it all?

"No, that won't do…" Vlad mumbled under his breath. It was the first words he'd spoken since the destruction of the lab, but he couldn't find it in him to care, mind too focused on the turn of events.

No, he couldn't walk away. He already invested too much to simply walk away from everything he worked for. Maybe redirecting his feelings would work. Maybe, instead of being a father to Daniel, he could be a companion? A mentor maybe, but instead of trying to corrupt him to be more malicious and manipulative, he could try to… well, he could maybe… maybe, try to…

He shook his head in frustration. Well, Vlad didn't know, but he could do something! He couldn't let Daniel try to be his son, not after destroying his perfect one, but maybe they could try to have a relationship, one akin to an odd sort of friendship that only could come from mutual experiences.

Vlad sighed heavily, shaking his head at his thoughts. The older halfa didn't know what to do. He started tracing the picture again, eyes darting over the ripped portion on the corner, where _Jack_ and his idiotic smile dominated the area. He scanned his beautiful, younger Maddie and her frizzy hair (God, the fashion was _atrocious_ in those days!), taking up half the picture.

Somehow, his eyes always found their way back to his old self and that small little smile of his.

For a moment, the billionaire allowed himself to stare at that happy expression. His left hand shook, as it held the frame, his right index finger hovering over the old picture as if afraid that the photo would disappear.

In that moment, Vlad realized something…he…he just wanted to smile like that again. Carefree, genuine, _happy_. He wanted his life back. He wanted those wonderful college days back where he wasn't thinking ten steps ahead of every single sentence someone spoke. He wanted his best friend back, the one that _didn't_ ruin his life and the one he could talk about nearly anything with just because he could.

He wanted... he wanted to feel safe. Safe from the lies, safe from stares, and safe from the world because he was young, smart, and armed with the two best friends in the world. Vlad just wanted his life back before he became a freak of nature.

Was that too much to ask for?

Obviously, he couldn't have everything in his old life, nor would he want to. He was smarter and less naïve of the ways of the world now, and he liked that knowledge. However, if he worked with Daniel to have something of a friendship, maybe, just maybe he could smile like that again…

As Vlad stood there in the broken lab, a small bit of hope lifted his spirit, filling that hole of emptiness that was creeping up on him. He started thinking of the different scenarios that could lead to his happy ending. Daniel learning from him, Maddie maybe finding out and being _okay_ with their ghostly DNA, _Jack…_

Well, Vlad tolerating his presence enough to build, maybe not friendship but an understanding of sorts.

With this route, Vlad knew he would never have it all, but he could have something good for once in his life. And maybe, that would be enough for him in the end...

And then the image of blazing green neon eyes tore to the front of his mind, making him nearly drop the frame in shock. In an instant those eyes destroyed all thoughts of a happy ending for himself, a low burning anger filling the space in its stead and the frame in his hands suddenly feeling unexplainably heavier than moments before.

There wasn't hate in those unnatural eyes, not exactly. Vlad was used to hate, jealousy, and other negative emotions. He could handle _that_ from the boy. However, there was something else that made him stop thinking about some pretend happy fantasies and consider the reality of the situation.

Daniel's eyes, those bright eyes so filled with determination and distaste, they saw him as nothing more than a villain.

To the child, this was some sort of game. A back and forth deal of fighting, winning, and celebration that left the teen satisfied with himself at the end of the day. Of course, his hero-complex played a role in his determination to be a do-gooder, but in the end, the child simply wanted to feel like the big bad hero in his own little story.

Daniel's mind was simple like that, black and white with no hints of pesky gray to muck up his own ideals. Good, bad. Hero and villain. Simple. God forbid he think deeply into someone's _reasoning_ behind their actions.

Before now, Vlad had always seen Daniel as something to be won, a prize for his long hated trials of pain throughout the years. But as those green eyes blazed in his mind, it was like something finally snapped within the older halfa.

All Vlad wanted was a happy ending for himself. It didn't matter how he got it, just as long it didn't destroy himself in the process. He wanted power, glory, and the recognition he deserved, and he deserved everything in the world for having his own life taken from him. Jack had taken his future, so as a great equalizer, he should take Jack's life, right?

Right, because in the end, Vlad was better than them, all of them. They were mere humans, idiotic mortals who bowed down to those who had an inkling of power at their fingertips. Whether this power be a dangerously intelligent mind, piles of cash, or ghost powers, it didn't matter. People gained power by bullying others into submission, nothing more, nothing less. There were so few that challenged this ideal ( _Daniel and his sense of justice_ ), that the theory was nearly true in every way. After all, _'heroes'_ couldn't save everyone.

Yet still… Daniel could have changed all this. If he, just for one moment, one tiny moment, had tried to see that Vlad was something more than an irredeemable villain, maybe, just maybe things could have ended up differently. If he stuck out a hand and offered companionship, tried to show him an inkling of sincere kindness, or even tried to _talk_ to Vlad about his issues… things could have been different.

But no, Vlad was the villain and Daniel was the hero… and that was all it would ever be.

Vlad was barely aware of what he was doing. He took the frame in both hands, clenching the fake wood edges slightly for a second, before turning it over. With mechanical movements, he shook the glass out of the frame with one, two, three powerful jerks, the glittering pieces falling silently on the ashen ground.

Despite the heavy manhandling, the picture never fluttered to the ground, stubbornly staying within the frame with an almost unnatural grip. Vlad scowled as he flipped the frame back over, only small pieces of glass remaining at the edges of wood. Careful not to cut himself, Vlad curled his right index finger under the top edge of the scorched picture, his thumb pressing into Maddie's curls. Meeting slight resistance, he peeled the photo from the frame, the edges of the photograph getting nicked by the remaining shards of glass.

As soon as the photo was free, Vlad threw the frame to the side, no really caring where it landed. He didn't need it anymore. It wasn't important.

Instead, he focused on the stubborn item in from of him. As he held it in front of his face, the picture dangled helplessly between his fingers, fluttering slightly from the small breeze created by the broken opening.

For a second, he once more looked at the expressions on the worn photo, face blank, as he idly studied the paper. Actually this time around, he noted the little crinkles, punctured holes from where the glass caved in, the imperfect scorch marks at the edges, and of course, the rip where he tore Jack's face off.

He studied these imperfections for only a moment, before holding the happy memory far in front of him and bursting it into flames.

Vlad stared, unimpressed, as the ashes of the photo settled on the floor of the once pristine lab. They rested with the rest of the mess, mixing perfectly in the destruction of the evening. In fact, even Vlad had trouble separating the ashes he created from Daniel's.

The halfa indulged himself in staring for a moment more, before turning away from the mess he created. With a sweep of his hand, his cape fluttered dramatically behind him, rippling increasing, as Vlad Plasmius rose to fly into the otherwise silent night.

And with that, the immortal picture was finally destroyed.

With the destruction of the picture, something within the halfa finally settled, a cold, malicious conviction brimming where confusion and unsettlement once tried to blind him from his true purpose. He was glad for Daniel's glare now. It reminded him what he truly was, what side he truly remained, and what the reality of his situation was.

And the reality was this: Daniel would never forgive him, never let them start over, and truthfully, some part of him was relieved by this fact. Vlad was by no means a lazy individual, but he also wasn't one for risk. He would rather pass on the inevitable backlash to some unlucky party then be caught red handed in the main action.

Trying to start over with Daniel, attempting to mend his relationship with _Jack_ , and admitting to his wrongdoing, not only felt wrong on so many levels for his character, also was… _risky_. Starting over meant revealing _everything_ he had done as a halfa. This, of course, meant all of his supposed crimes, his attacks, and whatnot…

In short, out of the many morally ambiguous or even morally wrong things he had done in his life, Vlad could on one hand about the things he actually felt regret over. Admitting that he was wrong would be an empty statement.

So no, he wasn't going to apologize for what he had done in his life, nor would he try to fix something that had no hope in becoming something more than something else he could get wrong. It was much easier to think Daniel as an adversary, not some prize to be won, and something akin to _almost_ his equal.

Not truly his equal, of course. Nothing could ever even come close to his magnificence.

The time for petty games and dirty tricks was over. He had underestimated the boy for the _last_ time. He would not lose again, not to that snot nosed brat, not to anyone else ever again. Vlad had lost too many games, sacrificed too much, and faced too much pain to not get anything out of this… this…

…This _mess._

It came down to this, if Daniel wanted Vlad to be the villain in his story, then so be it. Plasmius would be best villain that his money could buy.

And in turn, he would try to make the _hero's_ life as hellish as possible. It was only fair, after all.

Plasmius paused midflight, a dark idea forming in his head. He turned back the warehouse, flying superiorly above the ragged building. (God, did he really think to create his perfect son, _here_? Even his desperate mind should have _some_ class.)

He pushed the thought away quickly.

With a growing smirk, he held his hand in front of him and let a concentrated ball of ecto-energy form, the power growing in his hands with every passing moment. The pink energy glowed dangerously in the night, growing deeper shades of nearly red, as the color reflected against his blue skin in a sickly fashion.

Plasmius smiled at power at his hand, flicked his gaze back to the horrid building, and with a flick of his wrist, dropped the nearly bomb-like ball of ecto-energy.

Time seemed to pause, as the ball slowly plunged to the Earth. Plasmius slowly flew backward, still facing the warehouse with a canine-like grin and nerves brimming with anticipation.

Everything was peaceful in Amity Park. Calm night, slight breeze, and overall a perfect clear night for stargazing.

That was until the warehouse burst into flames.

The explosion was sudden and forceful, rising like a fountain, as the flames tore at everything they could reach. Plasmius had made sure not to put enough power to destroy the city, but a bubble of laughter starting to catch in his throat, as the explosion mushroomed upwards to the sky like the aftermath of dropping a nuclear bomb.

Bright orange flames reflected against blazing red eyes, and the heat from the fire curled blew at him. As he watched the warehouse fall, Plasmius's eyes flared red with glee and the laugh that threatened to come, burst through the night.

Whether it was intentional or not, the laughter came out as a dark, deep bellied cackle that would have shook the very souls of those weak willed. If the cackle didn't do it, the flashing, malicious blood red eyes, as they gleefully took in the wreckage would have.

Plasmius wasn't usually one for mindless destruction but…

Well, while Daniel settled to release his more violent urges on ghosts, the older halfa preferred to make more impact when he finally released his repressed urges of destructive anger.

As Plasmius turned away from the roaring fire, his cackling didn't relent. He simply flew just below the skyline, enjoying the heat that the flames gave the cold night.

And the truly funny thing about it all? With his influence, money, and overall power in their society, the idiotic teen would never know what hit him…

No.

A dark smirk curled on Plasmius's face as the fire roared behind him He paused turning his head to look back at his handy work, smirk growing canine-like as black smoke covered the stars.

Even from how high he was flying, the fire dominated _everything_ in the cold night, no one could look away, no one could miss it, and all they could do would be to watch in horror, as the flames slowly burned that section of town to ashes.

The idea was glorious.

With a self-satisfied nod, Plasmius finally looked away, turning invisible for the long flight back to his mansion.

Oh, no, no, no, no, no, this wasn't just about the boy anyone. That would be so insignificant and so disgustingly short term.

No, the _world_ wouldn't know what hit it when he finally released his reign of terror.

After all, what kind of super villain would he be if world domination wasn't his ultimate goal?

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Word Count: 5927 words (not including, intro, outro, or title)

Critiques are loved! Tell me if you like something, tell me if something sucks, and ask me questions for clarification. (Btw, I love writing in Vlad's perspective. It's so much fun finding the right combination of twisted logic, pompousness, and narcissism!)

It's kind of funny how out of order I wrote this. I wrote most of the beginning before Vlad nearly goes to kill Danny, then I wrote the end, and then I wrote a few things here and there, went back to the end, and then finally finished the picture studying scenes and the history of the college picture last… weird…

By the way, this is my kind of screw you to Butch Hartman for making Vlad an irredeemable villain in the show. As much as I loved the show the first two seasons, he messed up badly the third. So much OOC-ness, choppy plots, and general badness...

In my opinion, Vlad would have been the perfect redeemable villain, but alas it was not meant to be. (I blame Hartman's Sam favoritism).

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Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed! See you next time!

~LunagaleMaster


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